


An Abundunance of Grace

by LiraelClayr007



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Grace, Angst, First Kiss, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-12-21 05:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11937318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiraelClayr007/pseuds/LiraelClayr007
Summary: “Dean. Dean. Come on man, talk to me. What’s going on? Where’s Cas? Did he do something?”At the sound of the angel’s name Dean’s head snaps up, his eyes finally focused.“It wasn’t...It was me.” Dean’s voice is rough and angry, but Sam can see the defeat in the slope of his shoulders and the way his fingers still find their way to Cas’s initials on the table.Dean closes his eyes. “I told him I love him.”Sam gasps, but before he can speak Dean goes on. “I told him I love him, and he disappeared.”





	1. A Shining Light

“Dean.”

 

Sam’s been sitting across from Dean for ten minutes now, trying to get him to talk. Dean just sits at the big wooden table. He stares. He passes the still-full beer bottle from one hand to the other. Occasionally he traces a finger along the “CW” the brothers talked Cas into carving alongside their own initials--“ ** _Of course_** _you’re a Winchester,”_ _Dean had insisted_ \--but he doesn’t seem to even realize what he’s doing.

 

“Dean.  _ Dean.  _ Come on man, talk to me. What’s going on? Where’s Cas? Did he do something?”

 

At the sound of the angel’s name Dean’s head snaps up, his eyes finally focused.

 

“It wasn’t...It was me.” Dean’s voice is rough and angry, but Sam can see the defeat in the slope of his shoulders and the way his fingers still find their way to Cas’s initials on the table.

 

Dean closes his eyes. “I told him I love him.”

 

Sam gasps, but before he can speak Dean goes on. “I told him I love him, and he disappeared.”

 

“Wait, he’s flying again?”

 

Dean slams his fist on the table. The beer wobbles but manages to stay upright. “ _ That's  _ your takeaway? Really, Sam?”

 

“No! Of course not, I’m sorry Dean, I just--are you okay?”

 

Sighing, Dean scrubs at his eyes. “No. I--I don’t know, Sam. You know me, I’m no good at talking about  _ feelings _ . But we’ve been spending a lot of time together...that’s actually how he could fly, if you want to know. We were on a hunt a few weeks back, and I grabbed his hand to pull him out of the way of an attacking vampire. When our hands touched...even  _ I _ could feel it. A  _ spark _ . His explanation--which I didn't fully understand, and honestly, I don't think he did either--was that something had changed, and his grace resonated at a different frequency. Whatever the science, or the magic, or whatever--when our skin is touching his grace gets stronger, strong enough that he can heal himself. His wings are completely healed now; all his feathers are regrown.”

 

Dean pauses, and Sam can’t help but say, “So you’ve been sitting together...holding hands?”

 

“Healing!” says Dean, ears pink. Sam chuckles softly.

 

“But…” says Sam, leaving a space for Dean. 

 

Dean sighs. “ _ But _ ,” he repeats, “maybe the holding hands thing...maybe it helped me to figure some things out. There’s been something unspoken between us for years--don’t act like you haven’t seen it Sam, I know you have--and tonight it became...spoken, I guess. And he flew away. Apparently...apparently he doesn’t feel the same way. He’s probably on a mountaintop somewhere, chasing some bees.” Dean’s voice breaks. 

 

Uncomfortable silence falls over the room. Finally Dean says, “All that sitting side by side, talking for hours,  _ holding hands _ ...I thought there was something there. Sam, his grace  _ actually sparks  _ when we touch. Wouldn’t  _ you  _ think…” Dean lets his voice trail off. Sam knows he isn’t supposed to answer.

 

Dean stands, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m going to bed,” he says. He turns and walks to his room, his beer still undrunk.

 

“Damn,” says Sam, his voice following Dean down the hallway. “After all these years…”

 

Dean pauses, but there’s nothing more to say.

 

“Good luck,” Sam says.

 

* * *

“I didn’t think you would come.”

 

Cas’s low voice is unmistakable, even in dark of the underground bedroom. Dean yelps in surprise and scrambles for the lightswitch, heart pounding. “Dammit Cas, you’re going to give me a heart attack.”

 

The room floods with light, and Cas, standing stiffly beside Dean’s bed, says again, “I didn’t think you would come.”

 

Sighing, Dean says, “Well, Cas, this is my bedroom. Stands to reason I’d come here eventually.” He sits on the bed, attempting--and failing--to look at ease. 

 

Flustered, Cas says, “I just thought--I thought you might be--that you might go into town, to the bar. Find a…” Cas gestures vaguely, unwilling to finish the thought.

 

Dean is on his feet and in Cas’s face in an instant. “Is that what you think I’m after, Cas? Some random hookup? I don’t want anyone else. Just...just you.” He starts off angry but the last words are barely a whisper. Dean sees sudden realization--and is that hope?--in Cas’s eyes. “It hasn't been anyone but you for a long time. I meant what I said before, Cas. Please don’t fly away again.”

 

He hesitates, then asks, “Why  _ did  _ you fly away?”

 

Cas is silent for so long Dean wonders if he’s going to answer at all. Finally he says, “I didn’t know how to react, so I reacted badly.” He looks into Dean’s eyes, embarrassed. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you the same thing for awhile now, but in my head it was always  _ me _ . When you said it first…” The corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile. “You just startled me. And then I left, so I figured you’d find comfort elsewhere…”

 

Dean moves in close, inches from Cas’s face, then stops. “We’re both here now, Cas,” he says, his voice rough. And then, “Is this okay?” 

 

Cas nods.

 

Dean cups Cas’s face in his hands, and there it is again: the now-familiar jolt of Cas’s grace. But when their lips touch--that is something altogether new. Far from a small spark, the kiss is a shock, and Dean feels it all the way to his toes. People always talk about kisses being “electric” and couples sharing a “spark,” but this is the real thing. A current flows between them. Dean is suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of his own skin, and--somehow--Cas’s too. For a fleeting moment he wonders how that could be possible, but he pushes the thought away.

 

Cas’s hands clutch at Dean’s flannel and the t-shirt underneath, searching for more skin. Dean’s hands slip away from Cas’s face to twine in his hair. He hears the rustle of feathers and breaks away from Cas long enough to breathe, “I love that sound,” but Cas recaptures his mouth before he can say any more. In a breath Dean is lost in the taste of Cas on his lips, the soft black hair between his fingers. Cas’s hands flutter along the skin of his back and Dean shivers at the touch; he has been dreaming of this--aching for this--for so long he can hardly believe it’s truly Cas pressed up against him. 

 

Breaking away from Cas’s mouth, Dean begins to explore the rest of his face. He plants small kisses along Cas’s jaw, nips at his earlobe. Cas gasps at this, so Dean does it again, grinning into Cas’s neck.

 

Dean’s hands are pulled away from Cas’s hair, and suddenly his flannel is on the floor. “Oh,” says Dean, with something between a gasp and a laugh. “So we’re done talking, then?”

 

In answer, Cas pulls Dean’s t-shirt over his head.

 

_ Hell yes _ , Dean thinks.

 

He winks at Cas, grinning. He grabs Cas’s tie and pulls; Cas stumbles forward and Dean catches him with a kiss. He keeps hold of the tie with one hand but uses the other to finally-- _ finally! _ \--get Cas out of his trenchcoat. Their foreheads touch as Dean loosens Cas's tie, and again Dean is struck by the impossible sensation of Cas's skin--not Cas's skin against his own, but actually feeling what Cas is feeling.

 

Dean stumbles backwards, completely thrown out of the moment. “Cas, what the hell! Are  _ you _ doing that?”

 

Cas looks confused. “Doing what?”

 

“I could...twice now...something very strange is going on,” he finishes lamely. 

 

Tilting his head slightly, Cas says cautiously, “Dean, are you nervous?”

 

“ _ What? _ No! Of course not!” As if to prove his point, he grabs Cas by the front of his shirt, and instead of unbuttoning it tears it open. Buttons fly in all directions. Cas's eyes widen with surprise and then fill with desire as Dean pulls him closer. Their lips meet again, but this time the room fills with an intense, blue-white light. Dean knows that light: Cas's grace. 

 

“Cas!” Dean yells, covering his eyes. “Cas, stop!”

 

He can't see, but Dean can hear Cas pacing back and forth in front of him. “I don't understand.” Cas's voice is strange, strained. “How is this possible?” The heat of his grace doesn't lessen. 

 

“Dean, open your eyes.” Cas's voice is gentle, but insistent. When he hesitates, Cas takes Dean’s hands in his own and says, “Trust me. You are perfectly safe.”

 

Dean cracks one eye open, then the other. The grace still shines, filling the room, but he can see just fine. “Uh, Cas, not that I'm complaining,” Dean says, an edge of hysteria in his voice, “but what the hell is going on? Why aren’t my eyes burning out of my head right now?”

 

Cas's voice is full of wonder. “I can't explain it, Dean, but my grace...it is shining from  _ you _ .”


	2. "I'm no angel"

Dean’s eyes widen as he looks down at himself then back up at Cas. “From _me_ ? Cas, last time I checked, I’m not an angel. And, wait, did you say _your_ grace? You can tell?”

 

Cas smiles. “Of that much I can be certain. My own grace has been a part of me for ages gone.” The smile fades slightly as he gets lost in his thoughts. “All this healing we’ve been doing, there must have been a transfer somehow...”

 

“Brilliant deduction, Sherlock,” Dean grumbles. “Can you take it back? Or at least turn it off?”

 

Slowly shaking his head, Cas says, “I have no idea what’s going on here, Dean. I can feel that my grace is in you, but I’m not in control of it any more.”

 

“So you can’t take it back?” There is an edge to his voice.

 

Cas goes silent. He looks away, scrubbing at his forehead.

 

“I didn’t mean--” Dean starts.

 

Cas sighs and looks into Dean’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I know this is strange. But...you’ve seen how angels lose their grace. It has to be cut away with an angel blade...and it is very painful. I won’t do that to you. Besides, we don’t know what it would do to you. As you say, you are not an angel. No, I can’t take it back. You’re going to have to be the one to ‘turn it off,’ as you put it.”

 

Dean begins to shake as full-blown panic sets in. He can actually feel the grace inside him now, somehow alien and familiar all at once. His stomach is trying to reject it and his head aches with the strangeness. He pulls at his hair and the room spins and his knees give out. Cas is there before he hits the floor, and there is some comfort in Cas’s arms, but panic rises again when their combined graces-- _oh god how can this be happening?_ \--shine brighter still at the touch of their skin.

 

“Cas, I can’t...I don’t know...help me…” Dean can hardly get the words out.

 

“Just relax, Dean.” Cas’s voice is soothing, low and rough. He cups Dean’s cheek, kisses his forehead. “Close your eyes. Just listen to my voice. I was created knowing how to do this, but you’re going to have to learn.”

 

Dean’s breathing slows. Cas runs his hand up Dean’s arm, hand automatically stopping where his handprint once marked the skin. He murmurs, “Do you trust me?”

 

A small nod.

 

“Good. It’s all inside you, Dean, inside your mind. You need to calm your emotions and then…” Cas trails off for a moment, searching for the right words. “When you are calm, use your mind to pull your grace back inside yourself.”

 

Dean barks a laugh. “Thanks, Cas. That explains so much.”

 

“Just try it, Dean. Please.”

 

Still shining brightly, Dean crosses his arms over his chest. “Alright. But I don’t see how…”

 

“Just think about it.”

 

His face skeptical, eyelashes brushing his cheeks, brow crinkled in concentration, Dean _pulls_. Beads of sweat form on his upper lip. “Cas, I…”

 

“Focus, Dean. You can do this.” Cas takes Dean’s hands in his, and repeats, “You can do this.”

 

Dean bites his lower lip. _I can do this_ , he thinks.

 

Again he _pulls_ , but this time feels different. There is a shift inside, as if his brain rearranges itself to accommodate this new skill. He feels a settling, and he knows before he opens his eyes that his grace-- _Cas’s grace?_ \--is all inside again, fitted into spaces he didn’t even know he possessed.

 

A small part of his mind whispers, _back where it belongs_. He pushes that thought aside.

 

When he opens his eyes, the light of the grace is gone but Cas’s smile shines bright. He leans slightly, so their foreheads touch. Dean gasps.

 

“Cas, do you feel that?”

 

Cas nods, slowly. “It's...the closest comparison is ‘an angel handshake.’ Have you ever noticed that angels always seem to recognize each other, even when their vessels change? It's not a visual thing; when we get near enough our graces reach out to one another. Physical touch isn't usually required, but if I had to guess I'd say your grace isn't quite full strength yet.”

 

Dean gapes at him. “Cas, I'm _not_ an angel.”

 

“Maybe not.” Cas's pause hangs heavy in the air. “But I wonder if you can be completely human anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took so long! With my kids starting back to school and trying to get back into a routine life has been a bit (or a lot) insane for the past few weeks, but it's starting to settle down. I should be able to keep up better now! Thanks for being patient with me. :)
> 
> Say hello on [ tumblr ](https://ialwayscomewhenyoucall.tumblr.com/) if you are so inclined... :)

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to happylindsay for being my awesome first reader and friend. <3


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